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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098138">kaleidoscope magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant'>Shamelessly_Radiant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Just these two being soft with each other, M/M, easy soft and lovely, it's what I need tonight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:07:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's red and golden and blue, and magic all on his own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>259</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>kaleidoscope magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just wanted something soft, easy and lovely. Hope I managed it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First, there is blue. Merlin blinks, and it is Arthur, eyes slightly crinkled, wearing a soft smile, tired and blurred around the edges. A smile that fades slightly when Merlin’s eyes drop to look at it, and then fades altogether the longer Merlin stares. Arthur’s mouth is moving then, and Merlin has to blink and blink before he even realises that Arthur’s mouth is forming words, which must mean Arthur is <em>speaking</em>, and Merlin cannot hear a word of it.</p><p>There is a ringing in his ears. Now that he has noticed it refuses to go away, annoying and persistent and painfully loud. Merlin raises his palms to rub his eyes and stops at all the red he sees. Messy skin, torn, gravel and blood. Arthur is turned away from him, gesturing and presumably yelling something at someone, but he turns back at Merlin’s sharp intake of breath. Merlin is by now scrambling to get up, or trying to, because while he wasn’t aware that he was lying on the ground and would very much like to get up and be alright, please, his limbs refuse to cooperate, sluggish and painful and seemingly overexerted.</p><p>Arthur— Arthur is shaking his head, and pushing on his shoulders, and <em>saying </em>something Merlin can’t understand, and Merlin is kind of working himself into a panicked frenzy, he doesn’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t know what happened, his recollection blurred and vague but going on the way his magic feels sluggish, withdrawn and barely there, weirdly out of reach and judging by the way the rest of him feels and because this is <em>Camelot</em>, he would make an educated guess that somehow, sorcery was involved.</p><p>Yes. There was a couple, he thinks. Vengeful sorcerers, or something. And fire. And some sort of ugly, dangerous, magical beast that refused to go away and die, and Uther, who refused to believe that the beast was magical, and Arthur, who refused to obey his father's orders and insisted on helping the poor villages on the very, very outskirts of the Darkling woods and refused to believe Merlin’s insistence that it all was a whole lot too convenient and seemed a whole lot too much like a trap and Dangerous with a capital D- mostly there was too much stubbornes and refusal on everyone’s part and it was annoying.</p><p>That part, he remembers. But then, it turns hazy. He thinks that he managed to sneak away, at least initially. But he also remembers blue, and red, and gold and a flaming sword, almost as a vision, something that has yet come to pass. He remembers, but it can’t be, can it, him and Arthur fighting side by side, and Arthur looking at him head-on as he threw out some spell. But it can’t be, because Arthur is here, right next to him, looking both annoyed and worried and slightly fond at him, and there is no pyre or angry Uther in sight, only an open field and horses and what he thinks is Gaius hobbling towards them and then there is Arthur’s arm, warm and strong and bracing against Merlin’s back, and blue eyes again on his as Arthur tilts him up, full bridal style no less, cradling him close to his chest and Arthur is speaking again, and Merlin thinks he’s mouthing <em>stay awake, Merlin. </em>And <em>Don’t close your eyes </em>or something like that, but Merlin is so very tired, and he feels so very safe cradled as he is to Arthur’s broad chest that he slips off into darkness even as he feels Arthur break into a run.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>.</em> </strong>
</p><p>When Merlin blinks his lazy, sluggish eyes open again, his sight is obstructed by fine, golden threads. After he makes sense of the fact that Arthur apparently fell asleep next to his bed, his neck so awkwardly craned that it almost gives <em>Merlin </em>the ache, he tries to magic a pillow beneath Arthur’s head, but only manages to jostle the mattress. His magic shoots through his spine and sinew and nerves, protesting <em>vehemently. </em>He feels bile gather at the back of his throat, and makes a rather undignified noise, limbs flailing madly and out of control.</p><p>“Merlin?” Arthur mutters next to him, and then more clearly, “Merlin!” He’s suddenly rolled onto his side and to the edge of the bed, just in time for his vomit to splatter to the ground. It is mostly clear liquid, leaves a burning, acid scorch in his throat, and he wonders how long he’s been out.</p><p>“Ugh,” he says, pathetically.</p><p>Arthur is calling Gaius while he gathers Merlin back and close, pillowing Merlin’s head on his forearm. That soft smile is back, edged with worry and relief, and Merlin wonders.</p><p>“You’re awake,” Arthur murmurs. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Ugh,” Merlin says again, very earnestly. Arthur chortles softly. “Good,” he says, “I was afraid you’d—”</p><p>Gaius bursts into the room, wearing two different slippers and with a robe haphazardly thrown around his shoulders, in disarray and looking worried. “What is it, Arthur— oh, good, Merlin, you’re awake! Give him some water, and we’ll need to, yes, and of course, also—”</p><p>He retreats to the shelves, muttering about potions and tests.</p><p>Merlin makes a face, and Arthur huffs, amused, and tilts him so he can drink the water more easily. A broad hand pushes the hair away from his forehead as he sips, and then lingers, and even when Arthur makes a comment about how Merlin desperately needs a haircut, Merlin is able to read between the lines, but he doesn’t understand, not really.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>.</em> </strong>
</p><p>They go back to normal, almost. Only normal is now Arthur ordering other people about to do Merlin’s job and ordering Merlin to rest and take it easy, and also, somehow, more smiling and nagging.</p><p>“You shouldn’t overexert yourself until all your abilities come back, <em>Mer</em>lin,” Arthur says one rainy afternoon and proceeds to wrestle him into a chair at his dining table and shove bread and cheese and soup at him. And Merlin doesn’t know why it clicks then, why it really clicks, doesn’t know why that tiny insignificant moment expands into something huge, but the spoon freezes halfway on its trajectory to his mouth, and the soup sloshes out when his hand starts shaking <em>bad</em> and he raises his eyes to Arthur’s, oh so slow, and Arthur’s face changes from confusion to understanding, smoothing out as he goes <em>‘ah’ </em>and Merlin, Merlin swallows, grips the table edge and asks, no infliction whatsoever in his voice, “all my abilities?”</p><p>Outside thunder and lightning crash and roll through the sky, but Arthur’s room is cosy, the fire burning merrily, the food hot and nourishing and Arthur’s socked feet sliding against Merlin’s calves as he slides forward and down in his chair, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.</p><p>“How—” Merlin chokes on the syllables and has to go again, and Arthur is all calm and warm and soft. “How did you know?”</p><p>“Eat your soup, Merlin,” he says. “It’s your favourite, isn’t it?”</p><p>And yes, it is, but that is not the point, and so Merlin makes sure to glare extra hard as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. He knows Arthur, perhaps better than he knows himself by now, and this mood he’s in is queer and stubborn, and Merlin thinks that he’s damn well going to enjoy eating Arthur’s food.</p><p>But then Arthur sighs, something flickering in his eyes before it seemingly dies, his face going unreadable. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, all soft again, and Merlin, alarmed, finds tears springing into his eyes.</p><p>He shrugs, shakes his head, drops his eyes back down to the food. “How long have you known?”</p><p>“My food is always hot, did you know?” Arthur says, instead of answering the question. “My duvets always comfortable. My bath, the perfect temperature.”</p><p>“Good for you,” Merlin snips, annoyed with the weird non-sequitur. Arthur huffs at him, continuing; “You took that trip with Gaius, to treat that village that had come down with the Sweating Sickness, do you remember?” He did. They had been gone nearly a fortnight, and Arthur had been snappy and churlish with him upon their return. But that had been <em>months </em>ago.</p><p>“I hadn’t noticed until then,” Arthur says. “Yes, <em>Mer</em>lin,” he snaps, before Merlin has a chance to interject, “I’m a spoiled, privileged prince.” Merlin smiles and tears of a chunk of bread, and Arthur, petulant, kicks him.</p><p>“Don’t <em>kick </em>me,” Merlin says.</p><p>Arthur kicks him again, smirks and continues, “but those two weeks, my food was either too hot or too cold. I slept horridly, and made the staff bring me bedwarmers, but the temperature wasn’t ever right. And my bath… I realised, that no matter when I told you to make me it, and how long it then took for me to get in, it was always perfectly warm.”</p><p>Merlin spares an angry, betrayed thought for his magic, because <em>his bed </em>is certainly never warm and cosy, and it shrinks back, properly subdued for the moment. He hadn’t known he, or his magic rather, was doing all those things, had just been aware of an awkward, painful absence on that long, gruelling track with Gaius, and all the while his magic had been missing Arthur, had been trying to reach out for him.</p><p>“It got me thinking,” Arthur says, pre-emptively glaring at Merlin, but Merlin is still too surprised to be witty. “Finish your soup, Merlin, and stop staring. It got me thinking. Branches do tend to conveniently fall down a lot when you’re around, don’t they? And I’ve heard you mutter and yell oddly before, but I always figured that was because you were brain-addled—”</p><p>Merlin tries to get a kick in, this time, but Arthur is a warrior, trained to kill from birth, honed reflexes in combat, blah blah blah, and intercepts his foot before Merlin even figures out he’s moved his arms.</p><p>“Let me go,” he glares, but Arthur just digs his thumb into the hollow of his sole and says “I don’t think I will,” and well, Merlin’s feet could do with a good rub, and Arthur doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s providing that, and Merlin is disinclined to tell him, really.</p><p>“But anyways, then I kind of got it. And you know, once I suspected, well, you’re not as subtle as you think you are, Merlin, really, it’s a wonder your head is still attached to your body. Here, give me your other foot.”</p><p>Merlin is still unconscious. He just hit his head, really hard, and his brain injury made up this alternate reality where Arthur smiles at him a lot and feeds him and rubs his feet and seems perfectly content to sit with Merlin and discuss the fact that he’s a sorcerer. Yes, that must be it.</p><p>Merlin looks at Arthur, and smiles, hesitatingly but happy, and Arthur’s returning smile is brilliant, and his hands are steady and wonderful as they work a magic all their own.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Merlin’s magic comes back slowly and carefully, tendrils peeking out almost playfully curious. Arthur still doesn’t let him do a whole lot of work, seeming rather content to keep Merlin around mostly for company, and really, Merlin doesn’t miss mucking out the stables so badly that he feels like complaining about it.</p><p>The day that his magic is fully restored is the day that Arthur wraps an arm around his shoulders and hauls him off to the training field. “Merlin,” he says, “I want you to show me exactly what you can do.”</p><p>Merlin remembering his vision-like recollection, of him and Arthur, gloriously fighting the beast side by side, sword and magic colliding and uniting to become something greater than their parts, happily complies.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Two weeks after Arthur becomes king, the day before his official coronation; Merlin stumbles upon him in the throne room, gazing at his kingdom through his window, looking heart wrenchingly desolate, and Merlin wants nothing more than to take up a share of the weight, to remember the boy that lives somewhere beneath the greatness of the man.</p><p>He blinks, and it is Merlin’s Arthur that comes to stand before him.</p><p>“A dragon came to me, in my dreams,” Arthur says.</p><p>“Oh?” Merlin murmurs, careful not to break the sanctity of the room. It has not been disturbed since the last time Uther breathed, and even before that, the King hadn’t been here in a while.</p><p>Arthur nods, stepping closer still. His hands rise to cup Merlin’s cheeks. “He told me I was destined for greatness.”</p><p>Merlin’s heart skips a beat, his breath skittering out. “I could have told you that,” he says, and it comes out altogether too breathlessly to maintain his careful façade of nonchalance.</p><p>Arthur shakes his head. “Even if it were destined to be so, I couldn’t ever achieve it without you at my side.”</p><p>“Arthur,” Merlin stutters out, because power has never been his ambition.</p><p>“Just promise me you’ll stay with me,” Arthur says, pulling him closer and closer still, angling his head to close the distance between them.</p><p>“Always,” Merlin says, and all he sees is gold, all he sees is blue, Arthur’s breath skittering out along his skin, creating that special brand of magic again, magic Merlin will never ever want to resist.</p>
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